Abbey's Road: It's (mostly) easy being green

Not long ago I bought a piteous purple orchid from the Discounted Dying Flowers Section at our local supermarket. Its leaves were dark and droopy, the stem was broken toward the top and most of the blooms had fallen off. I looked at the roots, which seemed healthy, mentally prescribed some phototherapy and fertilizer, and brought it home in the same way you drive your firstborn home from the hospital — taking the turns very slowly and constantly glancing back to make sure everything is OK.

Iris did a great job becoming acquainted with the local houseplant gang. I assigned her to a sunny upstairs bedroom with Frosty, another orchid I’d purchased in the dead of winter as a way of perking up the place and to feed my longing for a garden. I’m pleased to report that, so far, the two are getting along swimmingly.

The Roy Conservatory is now up to six houseplants, and I don’t see this trend slowing anytime soon. In fact, I recently had a revelation: Some people, when their children move out or become less dependent, adopt or purchase pets.

I adopt or purchase plants.

I know, we’re not exactly empty-nesters — my parents, at least, waited until my brother and I had moved out before replacing each of us with a feline. This is not an option for a family whose cat has been dubbed by the vet as a “high-functioning sociopath” like his namesake, Mr. Holmes. I don’t want drama, just a new family member who sleeps through the night and doesn’t wear diapers. Is that too much to ask?

Now that Tiny is independent enough to remain in a room by herself for two minutes without accidentally poisoning, impaling or choking herself — provided there are snacks nearby for a distraction — I find myself longing for another living thing to nurture, and houseplants seem to fit the bill.

As it turns out, they’re not all that different from children:

They start out kind of shrimpy and weak, but in just the right conditions, they strengthen and thrive.

They can be sort of finicky when they’re somewhere they don’t want to be and will protest by refusing to produce the results you expect from them. You must adapt the environment accordingly.

Sometimes they make a mess, especially if they get jostled around too much.

Occasionally they attract pests, which must be intentionally sought and weeded out so they don’t have a negative effect.

I frequently find myself Googling the tiniest symptoms of malaise: A spot here, abnormality there, broken limb, sunburn, discoloration. Then I question my fitness as a caretaker and wonder if I’m ruining them for life.

Even if two plants are the same type, they may have different needs. Some thrive in bright sunshine with very little assistance; they will suffocate if overwatered. Others need careful attention and constant nutrients, lest they wilt.

Some are natural showstoppers; others are content just to be in a corner. Each serves its purpose well.

As with any living thing, taking care of plants requires responsibility on the part of the owner, and there’s usually a learning curve that involves some sort of failure along the way.

That said, as long as they have solid roots and a nurturing environment, chances are they’ll turn out OK — and even reward you with displays of beauty and uniqueness for years to come.

Sure, it’s a bit of an investment of time and finances. (Houseplants probably less than kids. Probably.)

In both cases, the results are worth it.

Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.